Blinded by the Light
by Elizabeth Leah
Summary: Dean's "apple pie life" is interrupted when an old friend of his father calls in a favor. But when he goes to investigate, he finds himself haunted by more than the ghost he's chasing. And it may not be a ghost after all. Set 6 months after Season 5.
1. Chapter 1

_Sam teetered on the edge of the Cage. Dean watched, wanting to tackle his brother, to stop this madness, but he only watched through an eye half-swollen shut. Michael, in Adam's body, lunged forward to stop him and now both fell. And Dean just sat there. Hopeless. Useless. Bobby gone. Cas gone. His brothers gone. The earth rocked as the Cage closed._

_He stumbled up and knelt at the place where Sam once stood, despair welling up in him. Suddenly, the ground shook and hands burst from the earth, grabbing him._

"_Why didn't you save us?"_

_It's Sam's voice._

"_Why did you just let us die?"_

Dean sat bolt upright, gasping. Sweat covered his body as he shook in the cool air of the bedroom. Beside him, Lisa slept peacefully. He scrubbed his face.

Six months. Six months ago, Sam fell into the Cage, taking Adam/Michael down with him. Dean didn't like to think about how things were for Sam down there. Whenever his mind went there, he dove straight into the nearest bottle. Having Lisa and Ben helped because they were distractions, as much as he loved them. Sometimes, when he watched one of Ben's soccer games or helped him with a school project or went grocery shopping with Lisa, he could almost forget all that crazy shit, that he lost his brother, that Sammy wasn't roasting in eternal fire. But he never really forgot.

And the nightmares weren't so easily dealt with.

Slowly, he climbed out of the bed, careful not to wake Lisa. As he left the room, he took his old cell phone out of its drawer in the bureau, turning it on as he went. Not surprisingly, the light was on in the kitchen and Ben looked up guiltily from the open refrigerator door.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"Um. Getting a drink of water?"

"Sink's over there." He gently pushed Ben out of the way and reached inside for a beer.

Ben watched. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine." Closing the refrigerator, he set the phone on the counter and opened the bottle. "Why do you ask?"

The boy shrugged. "You took out your old phone."

Dean looked at it. He hadn't really realized he'd done it.

"You expecting someone to call?"

He took a swig. "Nah. You should go to bed. You've got school in the morning."

"You've got work."

"Who's the adult here? Go to bed. And your mom better not have trouble getting you up in the morning."

Ben rolled his eyes and sighed, but he went on to bed. Dean drank some more, wondering why the hell he even kept that old phone. Once he was settled into his so-called "apple pie life," he'd gotten a new phone with a new number and a whole new list of contacts. But for some reason, he never could bring himself to ditch the old cell.

Suddenly, the phone buzzed and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Picking it up, he frowned, recognizing Bobby's number. He answered it. "Yeah?"

"Hey, Dean. Didn't wake you, did I?"

"Nope. I was already up."

"Right. So, um, how's life?"

"You know how it is. Soccer games and barbecues. I think I might even buy a minivan."

Bobby laughed. "I'd like to see if you do."

Dean cleared his throat. "Was there something you needed?"

There was a short pause on the other end. "Do you remember Gus Downs?"

He thought for a long moment. "The name rings a bell but I can't place it."

"That's not surprising. He was an old friend of your dad's but they hadn't spoken in years. I think the last time you saw him, you couldn't have been more than eight."

"Okay. So?"

"Well, Gus called trying to find John, said he was calling in an old favor from that time in Albuquerque."

"Albuquerque?"

"Yeah, you weren't there, but Gus and John tried to take down a Native American shaman gone darkside. Gus saved your dad's life."

"Okay. But Dad's not around anymore."

"No, but you are."

Dean sighed. "I promised Sam I'd leave that life, Bobby."

"I know, but Gus really needs the help. Sounds like they have a hairy situation going on down South."

"What is it?"

"Ever heard of the Summerville Light?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, local legend has it that way back in the days of the railroad, a train was making its route late one night. Back then, they used to hang mail from hooks that the railway men would grab as the train passed. One night, outside of the town of Summerville, the worker leaned too far, and had his head torn off for his trouble."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Now, this is where things get muddled. The head was never found, so they had a closed casket funeral. Years later, a ball of light appeared. People see it pretty frequently today, if you go to the place where the accident happened. Some say it's the ghost of the dead man looking for his head. Some say, the ball of light is from the lantern the wife carries as her spirit looks for his head."

"Sounds like your average ghost story."

"Up to this point it does. Rumors and legends have been circulating that every now and again, the light causes some harm. Drunks and frat guys laughing at it or antagonizing it makes it set their vehicles, or them, on fire."

"Okay. So, just find out the identity of the man and his wife, dig up their bodies, and torch the bones. And hope it's not the husband because finding the head will be a pain in the ass." He swigged from his beer.

"If you think it was that simple, Gus would have called?"

"Um. No?"

"Idjit." Bobby sighed. "Every now and again, hunters have tried to find out if there was anything to those old rumors, but they've come up dry every time. Supposedly, if you go to what's called light road, you'll see a ball of light that comes close but that's it."

"Until recently, I take it."

"Yep." Dean heard papers rustling as Bobby referred himself to an article or whatever. "Recently, a local hunter went to investigate the Light. Craig Jackson. The usual happened. The light appeared, it drew close, electrics in the car went haywire, then it went away. Two days later, Craig was found dead in his house. Spontaneous combustion."

"Uh, that's when a body just bursts into flames, right? Huh. Well, it doesn't have to be related. Could just be coincidence."

"Except three days later, another guy went to go see the light with some friends of his. Two days later, they all die in a house fire."

"That sounds eerily like a pattern." He set his beer down and rubbed his chin. "What's Gus hoping I do?"

"He's hoping you'll go down and figure out what's going on, idiot." 

"Why can't he?"

"Because he's a busted up old man who's retired from hunting because he physically can't do it anymore. And he has a goddaughter to look after."

"I've got people too, Bobby."

"I know, but somebody's gotta do something."

Dean thought about that. He thought about the itch that came on sometimes, to go do what he was best at. He thought about how sometimes, like when he was mowing the lawn or going to his job at the garage, he felt like a fraud. Finally, he said, "Where's all of this going down?"

"South Carolina. Summerville is in the southern part of the state, near Charleston, but Gus and his goddaughter live a little further north, near Lake Marion. Hang on. I'll give you the address."

Dean turned to the fridge, where Lisa kept a notepad and a pen held by magnets on the door. He jotted down the address.

"So, you'll go?" asked Bobby.

A soft sound made Dean turn. Lisa stood in the doorway, a short satin robe belted around her waist. She looked at him, her face quiet and without expression. But Dean thought he saw a hint of resignation in her eyes.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'll head down first thing."

"Thanks. I'll let Gus know to expect you."

"Sure thing, Bobby. Take care of yourself."

"Watch your back, boy."

Dean hung up the phone. "Lisa," he started to say.

"I heard most of it," she said. "If you feel like you need to go, then go. We'll be here when you get back."

"I don't want to, you know."

Lisa smiled a little sadly but didn't reply. She walked out and Dean heard the creak of the stairs as she returned to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

"I want to go with you," whined Ben.

"For the last time, no." Dean slammed the truck door closed. He turned and squatted so he could look the boy in the eye. "You have to stay here and look after your mom, okay?"

"But I want to hunt stuff, like you!" He pantomimed shooting things, making pew-pew noises.

Dean scowled, straightening. "You don't want this life, Ben. You should...go to school and be something else." He reached out and ruffled the boy's hair. Ben pulled back, making a face. "I'll call when I get there. Mind your mom while I'm gone."

"Yeah, sure."

He turned and smiled at Lisa. "I'll be back. It's just your standard salt-and-burn."

She didn't say anything. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled close and kissed him. Dean slid his hands around to her back, savoring the taste of her. Ben made a noise of disgust and they parted, smiling ruefully.

"Be careful," she said.

"Careful's my middle name." One last kiss and he got into the truck, driving away.

OoOoOoO

Dean didn't bother to stop for the night, but kept driving, pulling off of I-95 midmorning. His eyes felt gritty and a vague headache pounded behind his eyes. He and Sam had driven through South Carolina once or twice on the way to other jobs, but they never had reason to stop there before. It looked all right: lots of pine and swamp. When he stopped for gas, he saw some preserved alligator heads for sale. Thinking of Ben, he bought one of the smaller ones. Oh, and it was humid and hot as hell. And Dean would know.

Gus lived outside one of those really tiny towns that, if you blinked, you missed it. Just like the directions said, he made the first left after the only church for miles and pulled into the second house on the right. From a corner of the yard, a dog yanked on its chain while it barked at him. He climbed out of his truck, grimacing as the heat engulfed him in a wet fist. Cicadas whirred from the trees and, in the distance, someone slammed a screen door shut.

The yard was messy with shrubs and flowers planted in an almost-wayward fashion. It was obvious Gus had a green thumb but no sense of planning a garden. Off to one side, however, vegetables grew in neat rows. An old, beat up blue truck from the 1950s rusted near the dog, its hood up and a box of tools on the ground by the wheel.

As Dean weaved through the vegetation, the door of the small yellow house opened and the ugliest man he ever saw came out. For a second, he thought it was a Wendigo. A beak-like nose squatted in the center of a gaunt, wrinkled face and bushy eyebrows bristled over deep-set eyes. Hair once blonde but going white with age was pulled back into a pony tail. The man could have looked Sam in the eye.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah. You Gus?" He reached the man and held out his hand. "I'm Dean. Bobby said he'd tell you I was coming."

"Oh, hey, Dean." Gus shook his head. His hand was firm and dry. "Come on in."

He led him into the house and Dean almost sighed with relief at the air conditioning. They stepped into the kitchen, which was neat. Several plants in mason jars grew in the window over the sink. A thick file folder sat on the round kitchen table.

"Care for a drink?" asked Gus.

"Sure. Beer if you got it."

"Not at the moment. Izzy's gone to get some. I've got sweet tea, though."

"That sounds good. Izzy?"

"My goddaughter." He took a pitcher from the refrigerator. "It's short for Elizabeth but, trust me, you want to call her Izzy. Girl's a bit touchy on the subject." He poured them two glasses. "Have a seat."

Dean sat at the table. A skittering sound came from a room behind him and he turned, tensing.

"Oh, that's just Pounce moving on his perch." Gus set the glass in front of Dean and took his own seat across from him.

"Pounce?"

"My hawk."

"Oh."

"I'll introduce ya."

"No, that's okay."

Gus grinned. "A big bad hunter scared of a hawk? You sure you're John's boy?"

"Yeah, pretty sure." He nodded at the file folder. "Bobby said you had a job down here." Picking up the glass, he took a slow sip.

"A job," Gus scoffed. "What we have is a fucked up problem." He opened the folder. "Did Bobby tell you about the Light?"

"He gave the rundown on the local lore, yeah."

"Well, just yesterday, there was another death." He opened the folder and took out a newspaper clipping. "Another friend of mine: Elbert Simmons. He went to investigate the Light, only to die two days later in a car fire."

Dean took the clipping. "A car fire? Was he in a car crash?"

"His wife said he got into the car, cranked up, and it burst into flames. I know a guy in the fire department down that way. He says they don't have a clue as to how it got started." He took a drink from his glass. "Anyone who goes down to see that Light is in danger."

Dean nodded as he read the clipping, though it didn't tell him anything he didn't already know. "What else do you got?"

Gus slid the folder to him. "That's all the lore, as well as a list of all the cemeteries in Summerville."

"How big is the town?"

Gus shrugged. "Average, I guess. But there're lots of churches and most have their own cemeteries."

"Any idea as to the identity of the man and the wife?"

"A whole bunch of best guesses but nothing solid. There's a list."

"Looks like you did some serious homework."

"It wasn't me. My Izzy did all that."

"She a hunter?"

Gus grimaced. "She wants to be."

"I take it that's not what you want."

"She was in school but when her parents died..." He shrugged. "She's going to want to come with you. I'd appreciate it if you told her no."

"Don't worry, man. I have no intention on bringing a novice in on this. Are there any connections between the people besides they went down to see the Light?"

"Nothing that we've noticed."

At that moment, the rumbling roar of a motor grumbled into the yard. Dean looked up. A black '76 Camaro pulled into the yard.

"Nice wheels," he said.

Gus looked over. "That's Izzy. Here, lets go help her with the groceries."

They left the house just as a girl with dirty blonde hair got out of the car. Dean couldn't help but appreciate the view. She wore a navy blue tank top with lace at the collar and cut off jeans. Her hair was pulled back and up into a bun.

"Hey," she said, seeing him. "You must be Dean."

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "Nice to meet you."

She looked him over, a slightly cynical cast to her eyes. "I bet."

"Now, honey." Gus kissed her on the head. "Be nice."

"I'm nice." She popped the trunk of the car and no one spoke as they collected the paper bags. Once inside the house, it was domestic bliss, it seemed as Gus and Izzy put away the groceries. Whatever bad mood she had once she pulled into the yard gradually dissipated as Gus joked with her.

Her good mood evaporated when she looked at the open file folder on the table.

"I see you got started without me," she said, putting the milk away with more force than necessary.

"Well, maybe you should've told us to wait," teased Gus.

She made a face at him before turning to Dean. "Got any questions?"

"No. I think your godfather had everything pretty well covered. You've done a good job with this research."

"Thanks."

"Gus says you want to tag along, but I'd rather work alone."

She looked him over. "Is it because of your brother?"

He looked down for a moment and then back up. "I just rather work alone."

"That's crap."

"Izzy," chided Gus.

"It's stupid to go by yourself. That thing is killing people. It's smart to have backup."

"I'll be fine," Dean said. "Really." He reached out and picked up the folder. "Thanks for the tea, Gus. But I should get going. Nice meetin' ya, Izzy."

He walked pass her and out the door into the bright sunlight. He wasn't quite to his truck when he heard a quick step behind him. Turning, he faced a glaring Izzy.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"Listen," he said, "I don't know what's going on with you and your godfather-"

"Damn right you don't. So might as well just shut your mouth and let me go with you."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know what's going on and I sure as hell don't want to get in the middle of it. So, just go back and cook grits or whatever the hell it is you do."

"Very funny." She watched him open the truck door. "A demon killed my parents. Don't I get to have a piece of the action?"

Dean looked at her seriously. "Trust me. You don't want to go down that road." He got into the truck. "I'll see you later, Izz." He cranked up the truck and backed out of the yard, ignoring Izzy's glare at he did so.


End file.
